


Seen

by Augustus



Category: Mickey Mouse Club RPF, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-30
Updated: 2003-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin goes looking for JC and finds more than he had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to: Glory - her OTP, not mine :)

You're pretty sure that JC came this way, but the studios can be a bit of a maze at times, full of long corridors and closed off rooms. Occasionally, you and Ryan explore in between takes, discovering dressing rooms and rooms filled with discarded props, but you've never spent much time in this particular wing of the building. It seems older and somehow less used, as though it's been forgotten by the Disney big shots who sign your pay cheques and make you learn your lines.

JC's one of the big kids, so he's allowed to do what he wants when he's not needed for a particular scene. He and Tony often escape from the noise of the studio, and JC says he'd go mad otherwise from all the endless screaming. You don't mind it much, yourself. It's kind of cool to have girls falling in love with you, just because they’ve seen you on TV. Some of the girls are older, too, and you like to brag about it to your friends back home, who look at you as though you're the coolest kid in the world. Whatever they say, though, you're nowhere near as cool as JC. 

You think JC's fantastic. He never seems to care that you're only thirteen, unlike some of the other older kids, who call you a baby and roll their eyes when you try to join in with their conversations. JC talks to you about lots of things. Your mom would be horrified if she heard some of the stuff he says. He's not rude or anything, just really open and honest, and so you know all about how he likes boys as well as girls and about how he once hooked up with Jennifer, but now he's into Tony. You're glad that JC thinks you're mature enough to tell you all those things. It makes you feel like you're more important than most people think.

JC doesn't mind when you tag along with him in between scenes. Your mom trusts him and Tony, so she's okay if you hang out with them for a while. Sometimes Tony looks a bit annoyed, but he never actually says anything, because everyone knows that you and JC are friends. Ryan's okay and all, but he's not as much fun as JC.

The corridor bends to the right and you're not quite sure which way to turn. All the doors are closed and some of them look like they haven't been used in years. There are no cobwebs or anything, like in the movies, but you're pretty sure that if you went into one of the rooms, everything would be covered in dust. You don't know why JC would want to come this way; he's not as interested in exploring as you and Ryan are and there are plenty of nicer places to go if he wanted some peace and quiet. 

You're about to turn back when you hear it, a muffled sound that's unmistakably JC. Frowning, you try the door to your right. It opens smoothly and quietly, and you step inside. The air is thick with a scent you recognise in some obscure section of your mind. As your eyes grow accustomed to the dusty shadows, you realise that JC is not alone. You watch, unable to more, as everything falls neatly into place. 

JC is arched backwards across the cushions of an old couch, eyes closed and completely naked. His legs are wrapped tightly around Tony's waist, pale and thin in the murky light. You understand what they're doing, but it takes a moment to actually register. You've never pictured JC like this, at least not with Tony, and it hurts in a creeping sort of way, now that you finally know what's going on. Because JC's never told you about this. Not the way he moans while Tony slides up and down above him; not the way Tony's eyes are shut and unseeing, as though he doesn't care about JC at all. It seems more sordid than you would have thought. 

And you don't want to look, but you have to anyway. You can't help but notice the way that JC's cock presses urgently into the hard lines of Tony's stomach, or the way that JC quivers slightly with every fluid thrust. It's not as animalistic as you might have expected. It's easy and practised and really kind of hot. You wouldn't mind trying it yourself one day, just as long as it could be with JC. Tony's nice and all, but he's a lot like a big brother to you and that'd just be gross. 

JC's not as handsome as Tony, and he doesn't have muscles or a hairy chest, but the thought of kissing him or holding him like Tony is sends a warm ache of need from your chest right down to your groin. You can't help but imagine what it would be like if it were you on the couch, making love to JC, and you can feel yourself begin to harden within your jeans in response to the image that lies before you and inside your mind. Ashamed, you know that you should leave, but remain motionless all the same. JC's back arches more with every one of Tony's thrusts and his hair seems almost fluid as it fans in dark waves over the fabric of the couch.

You've never felt it quite so strongly before, not this arcing, anxious need that pulses through you like it's never going to go away. Sure, there are mornings when you wake up sweaty and twisted in sticky sheets and you were eleven when you realised just how good it could feel to touch yourself when the burning grew too desperate to ignore, but this is different. It's so intense that your thumbs are throbbing and your eyes are damp with stinging tears. You can't decide if you'll die if you ignore it, or only if you succumb. You think it might be a little easier, if only JC's skin didn't look so white and smooth against the shadows of Tony's hands.

Finally, defeated, you allow your hand to seek the frustrated swell of your growing erection, as it pushes futilely against the denim of your jeans. The tentative pressure of your palm is pure, blissful relief, even through the barrier of the fabric, and you bite your lip firmly to prevent yourself from making any sound. Weakening, you press a little harder, sending a shudder of pleasure throughout your body. You taste metal on your lips as you close your eyes briefly, riding the first tendrils of heat that flood your nerves and veins. 

Encouraged by the fact that neither JC nor Tony seems to be aware of your presence, you bite back gasping breaths as you scrabble self consciously at your own skin, sliding your hand beneath the waistband of your jeans and encircling your erection with eager fingers. Unable to stand the further strain, the buttons slide open in smooth succession, the new sensation of cool air against the heat of your arousal making the slick movements of your hand all the more satisfying. 

You feel like one of those dirty old men your mom always tells you about. It feels good, though, really good. The sort of good that's like an incredible discovery, the kind of discovery you wish you could share. There's a part of you that doesn't quite believe what you're doing and that's probably good, because the enormity of the situation is probably a bit too much for you to deal with right now. All that you can focus on is the fact that it feels good and it's _JC_... and no one has to know. 

JC's eyes flutter open and, in the exact moment that he sees you, a soft moan slips, undisguised, from your lips. Tony appears to remain unaware, understandably preoccupied by the task at hand, but JC's eyes are wide and comprehending as he arches into Tony's thrusts. You want to turn away, to run back to the safety of bright lights and screaming girls, but you can't move, caught in a doorway with one hand wrapped around your cock while you watch your friend getting thoroughly laid. Except it's not entirely like that because, if you bring yourself to admit it, there's a part of you that's always hoped that it might be more than simple friendship, the same part that recognises every frantic non-verbal sound and converts it into masochistic pleasure.

JC sees you and that, in a way, is more thrilling than the scene being played out in front of you. He sees and he holds your gaze and there's nothing in his eyes to suggest annoyance or disgust, just a vague, dreamy glaze that you recognise as lust from the times you've jerked off in front of the bathroom mirror. It's funny, because there are so many things you could be focusing on right now, but you just can't look away from the pull of JC's eyes. Your cock is demanding attention from within the frozen curve of your palm and it’s only through sheer willpower that you manage not to lose control when JC parts his lips and smiles.

You close your eyes against the sheer, traumatising beauty of it all, just as warm, damp fingers interlace with your own, pulling you closer and resuming the blissful slide and tug that your own hand seems to have forgotten. It feels like you're dying, a maddening jumble of pleasure and lust, jealousy and guilt, and you press your eyelids a little closer together, breath dragging through your lips in horrible, keening gasps.

You open your eyes as you come. JC is watching you, even as Tony tenses and groans, his own orgasm rushing through his body like something so broadly tangible that it's impossible to define. You don't want him to notice you there, soiled and sticky and still burning from his lover's touch, so you back away, your knees wobbling under your weight as thought you've been running for miles. JC's smile grows, guilt free and sparkling, and you turn away for fear of saying too much.

* * * *

"He loves you, y'know," Tony says later, when he thinks that you can't hear. "You shouldn't encourage him like you do."

"I like him," JC says quietly.

"He's just a kid."

When he speaks again, you can hear the smile in JC's voice. "He's more than that."

**~fin~  
30th December 2003**


End file.
